


Sanctuary

by novatrick



Series: Mania AU [1]
Category: Butch Walker (Musician), M A N I A - Fall Out Boy (Album), Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Gen, MANIA AU, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novatrick/pseuds/novatrick
Summary: Butch moved into the cursed forest in the hopes of escaping the noise and chaos of the city nearby. All he wanted was peace and quiet, a calm life where he could eventually die alone. Imagine his horror when yet another hopeful young traveller slips onto his doorstep, pleading to find the way to the most dangerous part of the outer sector. Maybe his destiny wasn't to lay down to die quietly after all?





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> You're probably gonna wanna skim [the Mania AU](http://officialmaniaau.tumblr.com), specifically "tagged/c:butch" and "tagged/c:brendon" for context.

_Knock!_

... What was that?

_Knock knock knock!_

The door? Was that someone at the door?

Butch's soul and vessel exchanged looks. Since the cabin home he resided in was erected two years ago, only two wayward wanderers had found his home and knocked on his door. They both asked for directions to go deeper into the cursed forest, in hopes of finding something valuable. They endured Butch's winded speech on how the forest was dangerous. How the bogs were unforgiving. How the ruins were next to impossible to find. They accepted the risks and left on full stomachs. He never heard from them again.

The soul used the silk from its abdomen and its strongest four legs to ascend to the top of the farther couch. It glanced out the window, confirming the sight of someone waiting at their doorstep. Nervous clicks from its fangs indicated that the vessel was in some distress. Reluctantly, the vessel walked over to the door, axe in hand like a walking stick, blade pointed away from the door as a sign of ease.

The travelling vessel stood a few feet under Butch. Despite his best efforts to bundle up, the backpack, puffy jacket and two layers of pants simply weren't enough to protect him from the storm passing above them. Square-rimmed glasses were muddled by raindrops. Wet brown hair shone thanks to the light coming from inside. The mud around his shoes and ankles implied that he ventured this whole way on foot. Although he looked worse for wear, his brown eyes still glimmered with optimism.

The travelling soul stood proudly on four legs, rigid in posture like a cathedral's statue. It seemed to be a strange cross between a large cat and a gargoyle. Bold yellow fur was accented by irregular plum-coloured spots around its body. Bold yellow wings gradually smoothed into violet-tipped feathers, with a tail to match. Elegant brown horns curled along the contour of the top of its head. Butch expected the soul's body to look just as damp as its vessel. How soon Butch forgot that the stunning creature isn't actually there in their level of existence.

The stranger's eyes fluttered as he examined Butch's vessel up and down. He was used to it; he had always gotten those looks in the city. Perhaps it was the rugger biker wear. Perhaps it was shadows that coloured his hair and blackened the bags under his eyes. Perhaps it was the constant presence of his axe. Maybe, if he could see it, it was the sight of the enormous Black Widow soul peeking from peripheral view. It was those kinds of looks that made Butch think he wasn't needed around the city anymore.

"Uh... h-hi..." The young man shivered as he spoke.

The homeowner stepped aside, giving the stranger a full view of his home, "Get in."

"Huh? ... O-Oh."

Butch couldn't stand the sight of the human shrinking to the chill of the rainfall. It was the least he could do to reward someone who made the effort to acknowledge his existence.

"The name's Butch Walker," he introduced himself bluntly as he clicked the door shut, "Yours?"

"Brendon Urie... thank you... for, um, letting me in..."

"Think nothin' of it, Mr. Urie."

Butch leaned against his axe slightly, watching as Brendon helped himself to the warmth of the nearby couch. The puffy jacket peeled away to reveal a wool sweater underneath. His soul curled up neatly next to his vessel, wings folded over himself to match the nearby blanket that his vessel took to his lap. Butch's soul slipped down to sit properly on the opposite couch, curious to the sight of such a vibrant monster. Butch himself could only hear one side of the conversation as it started up, but the pair seemed well enough in their plane of existence. Brendon as a vessel, meanwhile, still seemed slow to recover from the elements.

"What d'ya want to drink?" Butch offered, "Water? Coffee? Tea?"

"Uh... you have tea? I'll take any kind."

 Time passed slowly as Butch brewed two cups of earl grey tea. In the time it took for the tea to steep, Brendon was able to freshen himself up handily. Who knew a few tissues and a blanket could make such a difference?

Even as he sat next to his monster, Butch kept his axe at the ready. Again, he pointed the blade away from Brendon as a sign of peace. Despite the fact that he only used that tool for crafting and building, people always got the wrong impression from a man who simply wouldn't put his tool away.

"Let me guess... you're lost, aren'tcha?"

Brendon simply nodded.

"Okay... it'd be too slick to travel in this heavy rain. It could ruin the nature near the pathways. You can rest here till mornin', then I'll take you back to the city on my motorcycle."

"Uh... actually... I was on my way to the ruins..."

God-fuckin'-dammit, why?! Why can't Butch, for ONCE, get a god-forsaken NORMAL lost traveller? Why does EVERYONE that finds his home just wants to sign their fuckin' death warrant and go deeper into the bogs and- ...

...

Butch's soul eyed his vessel gently, sensing the tension in his heart. Yes, this was frustrating, but this boy's so young. Maybe he just doesn't know.

... Breathe, Butch. Breath.

Butch relaxed the grip on his mug slightly. He set his drink down and gave Brendon a serious look.

"Mr. Urie, you're not the first guest I've had asking 'bout them ruins."

"Really?"

"Yes... there were two before you. Just like you, in fact," Butch said, "They stayed the night, asked about the ruins. When they left, I've never heard from them again."

"Oh?" Brendon quipped between sips, "Did they find the ruins...?"

"I don't know... but based on what I know 'bout the ruins, and the fact that I hadn't heard from them again, it's safe to say they're not in a good place."

"Oh..."

Butch kept his composure, but could feel bits of his mind grinding together like stressed teeth. Could Mr. Urie really be this naive?

"This forest is cursed as it is. That usually keeps people out," Butch explained, "I'm lucky that the Ancients allowed me to build my home here, in the middle of cursed nature. I now believe that they let me live here in hopes of warning curious folks like you."

"Beyond this cabin, the woods will get more thick and twisted. There will no longer be clear paths, and you'll have to forge your own. This river near my house? At the end of it, the bogs might eventually be there. They'll be there sooner if you're truly cursed. The bogs simply radiate with energy beyond one's comprehension. One wrong move in there and you'll be very dead."

Although the prognosis was grim, Brendon kept himself relatively calm, "I understand."

It was then that something clicked in Butch. Brendon's voice no longer quivered. His vessel's posture was just as strong as his soul's. He wasn't naive at all. Brendon knew Butch was going to try and deter him. Brendon seemed to know what he was up against. This was a first among the few members of company that Butch kept in this house.

"... Mr. Urie, why does someone like you want to find the ruins?"

"It's hard to explain, but it feels like fate..." Brendon said as he dug through his backpack, "My family... we've known a world of magic, long, long ago. Magic's faded from this world, but I'm convinced that it's still as vibrant as ever. The bogs are proof of it, surely. The ruins have to be the source of it."

Brendon set a few papers on the table. Some were printouts, but others were scribbles of maps, notes, and pictures. All of which held some detail to the ruins or the world of magic that Brendon believed in. Some circled possible locations for the ruins. Others listed descriptions of a world foreign to the one they both lived in. Butch couldn't doubt that Brendon hadn't done his research prior to travelling.

"The ruins are said to 'move' within this sector, right?" Brendon asked.

"... shifting their location to ensure no one with impure intentions ever finds it..."

"Right! It's using magic to protect itself," Brendon's face lit up, "I'm hoping that my lineage would grant me slight favour in finding the ruins. In bringing magic back to this world once more... well, that's not entirely true. Clearly, the magic never left. We just... kinda forgot about it. That we can host magic within ourselves."

"You don't say..."

"Yeah! A world of magic... the way my elders described it, it seemed so wonderful. The power to mend realms together. Vessels and monsters together in harmony, without limitations. There was even sunlight..."

Sunlight? Supposedly, sunlight once lit the world up to a warm and vibrant state. It's hard to say for sure; in all his years, Butch had never seen the outdoors glow in the same way as the indoors did. Could a world of sunlight even exist now?

"Something's calling to me. Begging to be discovered," Brendon picked up from where he left off, "I can't describe it in too many ways, but it's a driving force, kinda like destiny. That's why I want to find the ruins."

Destiny. That's a strong world to throw around. The distinguishing factor of humanity is that ability to choose one's destiny. Butch was the strongest believer of that. Even then, could someone's fate really be worth all of this trouble?

"Mr. Urie... this is all very convincin', and let me tell you, I'm no man to judge," Butch said, "I don't care if all you've shown and told me is truth or fiction, because I'm not the one you have to prove yourself to. The last warnin' I have for you is that the Ancients _will_ know if you're lyin' to 'em. So all I have left to say is this; if you're bein' dishonest, find your way back to the city and save your life. If you're tellin' the truth, the Ancients will still test you to prove your worth."

Brendon slowly nodded once more. His face was stoic and serious, absorbing every inch of what Butch was telling him.

"Do you accept all of the dangers I've warned you about?"

"Wholeheartedly, sir," Brendon confirmed, "It's worth the risk to me."

Silently, Butch pulled a pen from his pocket and twisted a map sideways so they could both read it legibly. Even their souls were invested in this development. Brendon's monster made little effort in turning its head, but it was still paying attention.

"You're here," Butch circled the spot of the map where the river made a wide bend, "Up to the northeast is the city from where you probably came from. Follow this river downward, all the way southwest... When fog surrounds the trees and the river widens to a series of lakes, you've entered the bogs."

"From there, it's hard to say where the ruins are. They could be further down, they could be higher up. I truly don't know where the exact location is. That's not my purpose in this life. If this really is your purpose, if this is something the Ancients will allow, the magic you speak of will help you find you way. However, it still won't be easy. The weather will wear you down. The bog's energy will test your stamina. There are no more safe houses beyond this one. And just travellin' down this river could eat up a full day of your time. Finding the ruins? That very well could take up another one, if the Ancients choose not to end your life by days of wandering aimlessly into nothingness."

"I have a spare bedroom upstairs. I insist that you stay here for the night, and take some perishables before you go. You're goin' to need every advantage you can get in this sector. To provide that advantage, to provide these warnings of what's to come... that is more or less my purpose in this life."

"Wow, I... wow, thank you. Truly, that means the world to me."

"Think nothin' of it. It's destiny, Mr. Urie."

Destiny. A word that echoed in Butch's mind as he drifted to sleep. As he prepared a full breakfast for Brendon. As he watched his soul treat Brendon's soul to a display of intricate web artwork as a gesture of friendship.

Brendon bundled bottles of water and every fruit cup that he could afford to fit into his pockets. He took every opportunity to show his gratitude for all Butch had done, even though Butch had doubts about his journey at first.

Brendon parted Butch's home on the most optimistic of terms, "I'll be sure to find my way back here, Butch. I'll be the guest that comes back to see you again."

"I look forward to it, Mr. Urie. Stay safe."

Butch watched as Brendon trekked back out into the wilderness, his soul trailing closely behind. The map began to wilt with the raindrops, as the storm from last night didn't quite let up. Weather around the bogs would only get worse. Butch's soul crawled up to rest on Butch's right shoulder, fangs snapping with familiar clicks. It was the same question that the soul had after every guest left the cabin: could they really be the one?

Although Butch did believe in the words that Brendon spoke, words of archaic magic that he had only read about prior... was he truly ready to brave those elements? Butch shut his door, and waited till the hopeful traveller was out of sight before begrudgingly coming to terms with the more logical outcome.

"That boy's a dead vessel walkin'."


End file.
